


Witchcraft In Your Lips

by SaucyWench



Series: Cups and Roses [21]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: M/M, Mitchell has ideas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 12:38:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17001819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaucyWench/pseuds/SaucyWench
Summary: Mitchell discovers a new kink.





	Witchcraft In Your Lips

Anders loved the ocean.  He had a surfboard, wetsuit, and several pairs of swim trunks, including a tiny speedo that made Mitchell’s fangs flash.  He owned an underwater camera and a snorkel, and knew how to scuba dive.  He swam with the utter confidence of someone familiar with the water since birth.

For obvious reasons, Mitchell was not a fan of the beach.  He would slather himself in sunscreen and wear as much covering as he could before he started getting funny looks, and still started getting uncomfortable after a short time in the sun.  He wasn’t much of a swimmer anyway.  He didn’t mind sitting under one of the big beach umbrellas while Anders frolicked in the water, but it made Anders feel guilty. 

So, when Olaf showed up inviting Anders to go surfing, Mitchell all but shoved him out of the door.  Anders could have a day at the beach without guilt, and Mitchell could use the time alone to binge watch trashy television shows without anyone objecting. 

When Anders came home, he wolfed down dinner before they fell into bed in a tangle of limbs.  Mitchell traced Anders’ tan with his tongue, the line between warm honey and pale creamy skin scandalously low around his hips, tasting of ocean water and salt.  All in all, it was perfect. 

The problem started the next day.  Due to wind, salt, and sun exposure, Anders woke up with chapped lips.  He kept licking and biting at them during breakfast.  Mitchell wound up so distracted that he dropped his toast on the floor, much to Anders’ amusement. 

That evening, when Anders got home from work, he greeted Mitchell with a kiss before he went to fix a drink. 

The smell of cherries hit Mitchell and he blinked.  He rolled his lips under and licked them, chasing the taste, before he asked, “Are you wearing lip gloss?”

“It’s not gloss,” Anders protested.  “I’m not a teenage girl.  I needed some lip balm and the store didn’t have any plain, so I got cherry flavored.”  He pulled the tube out of his pocket and held it up before applying a new layer. 

Mitchell nodded and watched, helpless to look away. 

Anders noticed, of course.  He smirked and smacked his shiny pink lips before taking a sip of his vodka.  When he lowered the glass, there was a faint blush smudge on the rim.  Mitchell’s eyes flashed black when he pulled Anders in for a kiss. They went to bed early, and the lip balm was forgotten on the coffee table.

The next day after work, their greeting kiss was fruity.  Before Mitchell could ask, Anders pulled a new tube out of his pocket.

“I thought we’d try a little variety.  This one is raspberry sorbet.”  When Anders applied a fresh coat, it stained his lips a deep pink.  He didn’t have a chance to fix a drink this time before Mitchell was pulling him to the bedroom. 

Mitchell was at work the day after that when his phone vibrated.  He ducked into the custodian’s closet to check it.  The text from Anders said _Forgot my lip balm again. Mind picking some up? You pick the flavor this time._ The phone vibrated again with a picture this time: Anders from a top angle, biting his bottom lip and looking up coyly though his lashes.

“Shit,” Mitchell whispered.  Just the angle of the picture made Mitchell remember what it was like to have Anders on his knees.  Mitchell knew how it felt to have those blue eyes looking up at him, filling with tears when he buried his hands into Anders’ hair and thrust his hips forward.  The sense memory was so strong Mitchell had to lean back against the wall and close his eyes as he struggled not to drop his fangs. 

Maybe he could convince Anders to wear lipstick for him one night.  Nothing garish, not like the cakey frosted pink stuff the old lady down the block slathered on every morning.  It would have to be something tasteful.  Maybe a deep blood red, something matte.  Anders could apply it to those lush lips, and later it would smear as he used his mouth on Mitchell.  Or maybe it wouldn’t, maybe Anders would leave a lip print around the base of-

“Mitchell!”

Mitchell jolted out of his little fantasy and flailed around before snatching up a broom.  He held it in front of him, as if the handle would provide something to hide his burgeoning erection behind. 

“What the hell, Mitchell?  The ED’s paged housekeeping three times.”  Michele had her head in the door, and was frowning at him. 

Mitchell hadn’t even heard her open the door.  Some apex predator he was.  He nodded.  “I’ll be there in a second.”

Michele’s frown of disapproval turned into a smile of unholy glee as she looked him over.  She opened the door wider and stepped into the closet.  “I can’t believe you are actively sporting wood at work.  Were you about you rub one out?”

“What?  No!” Mitchell protested.  He tried to angle the broom handle to protect his modesty.  At least the scrubs were baggy.  “Do any of you gods have a notion of privacy?”

Michele laughed.  “Not really.  None of us are shy.  Not to mention that the closet in a hospital isn’t exactly private.”  She gave him a shrewd look.  “You’ve got it bad, haven’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I’ll be out in a minute.” 

Michele rolled her eyes and ignored his unsubtle hint.  “I’m Sjöfn, remember?Goddess of love and all the sweaty fun that goes along with it.  You can’t lie to me about this.”

Mitchell had had enough of her prying.  He allowed his eyes to bleed black as he said, “I’m not lying.  It’s just none of your business.”

Michele was not intimidated by Mitchell’s display.  She shrugged and said, “It’s just cute.  The big, bad vampire and his little pet god.  Or is Anders the one holding the leash?”  Before Mitchell could reply, she flapped a hand in the direction of his crotch.  “Whatever.  After you handle your _little_ problem, your job is waiting for you.”  She left, closing the door behind her. 

Squeezing the broom handle hard enough to turn his knuckles white, Mitchell muttered, “Anders will be angry if I kill her.  Besides, it will be too hard to hide the body right now.”

After a couple of deep breaths, he was ready to go back out and finish his shift.  If he was lucky, he wouldn’t run into Michele again.  Even if he did, he was determined not to let her get under his skin. 

He had better things to think about besides nosy gods.  Things like what lipstick shade Anders might favor, and maybe even what lingerie he might be willing to wear.

 


End file.
